The Master
by DoctorsPet
Summary: The story of the Master and Lucy Saxon leading up to the Master's death in the Doctor's arms. Probably will contain very little of what is actually seen in the show. Very adult situations...
1. Intro

I do not own the creative rights to the Master, Lucy Saxon, or The Doctor. Those would be the property of BBC.

* * *

_My eyes could barely stay focused on anything, let alone on the tear-stained face of The Doctor, my adversary and now the man holding me in death_._ As he pleaded - pleaded so pathetically for me to regenerate_..._regenerate, I can regenerate - it's only a bullet_. _It is, as I said, pathetic_. _And yet_..._Somehow it warms my heart slightly_. _I wonder how I would react if the scenario were somehow, however unlikely, switched in some way_._ What would I do then? Would I cradle him as he cradled me, rocking him back and forth like a child afraid of a nightmare?_

_Thought I cannot clearly see his face, just the flickering blur of him, the glint of light on the streaks on his cheeks, I can feel his arms, his knees bent slightly at my side_. _I can feel him trying to pull me up over his legs as he shakes me a little, angry - forever angry with me_._ I can feel the heat of his arms and his hands, palms and fingers stretched over my back and shoulders, even through my jacket, even through the arms of his_.

_It warms me, that I am not, as I thought I might be, entirely alone at my death_.

_Still, I cannot help laugh at him_.

_"I win_._"_


	2. The Pretender

His lips moved softly, his eyes lulling and half-closed as he thrummed his fingertips against the desktop rhythmically.

Second in line, Lucy was fighting a million and one sensations as she peered over the shoulder of the man in front of her to catch glimpses of Harold Saxon - in the flesh. Something about the thrumming of his fingers against the table top seemed to light a fire in the lowest part of her belly.

Obviously not interested in the chatter of the man standing before him, book nervously clenched in his hands, Harold leaned forward, opening his eyes, forcing a little grin to his face, lifting his hand from the table, snatching the book from the man's hands the moment he saw the chance. "Uh-huh," he muttered irritably, opening the book and scrawling his name across the inside of the front cover. He shoved the book into the man's hands and peered around him, not bothering to wait until he was done speaking. He motioned to Lucy, next in line.

Her heart mimicked the sound his fingertips had made against the desktop. She moved forward, her feet taking her gracefully while her insides felt like they were crumbling. Her mind was racing with many things she didn't want it to be racing with, one thing she would have liked it to work out.

_How many times did I masturbate in the shower thinking about this book? How the hell is appropriate?_

Shaking her head, she put the book down on the table as the man who had stood in line before her shyly shuffled off, finally getting the message. Undoubtedly, he would still vote for Saxon, even after the bored brush-off.

Leaning forward, Saxon flipped open the book, pen in hand, and suddenly Lucy's mind simply refused to work on figuring out what she should say to him.

"What's your name, dear?" He asked, not looking up.

"Lucy - uh, Lucy Cole, Mr. Saxon." She gave a small grin as he lifted his eyes towards her, studying. _Flip-flop_...she thought, feeling her heart give a little throb as he sat up in his seat.

"The daughter of Lord Cole of Tarminster? That Lucy?"

Smile broadening, Lucy nodded her head vigorously. "Yeah, yeah - that Lucy. I went to school at Reodean and studied Italian-"

"Yes," Harold said, standing up behind the table, holding out his hand to take hers. "I know." Keeping his eyes locked firmly on hers, he bowed as she lifted her hand daintily into his, brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles. "It is such a pleasure to have finally met you after hearing your father speak so highly of you." Grinning, he pressed his fingers on her, lifting his head. "Of course I never grew tired of seeing all of your beautiful photographs."

Feeling a blush rise in her cheeks, Lucy dropped her eyes to the grain of the table, feeling the warmth of Saxon's fingers seeping into her own.

Lifting his eyes to those waiting, Saxon lifted his hand and waved for them to leave. "Table closed," he announced. "Something more important has come up."

As Lucy lifted her eyes to his, he turned his eyes back towards her, giving a little wry smile.

* * *

Lucy felt her breath rush softly from her lungs as she hit the wall at her back. As her lips parted to pull in a breath, Harold's mouth found hers, taking the breath right back. But she didn't mind.

His fingers wrapped tight over her wrists, lifting them against the wall, stretching her arms as though to crucify her. She could feel his bare abdomen press against hers, the warmth of his skin seeming like a flame against the skin exposed through her torn open blouse. Her fingers clenched in towards her palms, her nails digging against her skin as his fingers tightened on her wrists, stinging while his tongue played along hers, while he swallowed her soft moan in response to his leg pressing between hers.

Loosening his fingers, Harold moved his hands along the length of her arms to her sides, pulling at her blouse. Releasing her from his kiss, his lips trailed down her neck to her collar bone as he pulled the blouse down over her shoulder, tossing it to the side. He smiled to himself as the scent of her perfume was washed away by the scent of her aroused sweat beading between her breasts, and he bowed his head to lick away, sensing her smiling softly as she tipped her head back against the wall.

Pulling back, he lifted his head, bringing a hand up, knotting his fingers in her hair as he pulled her away from the wall, pulling her head back to expose her throat. Her heart thrumming, her blood pulsing through the so vulnerable veins just under her frail skin almost meshed with the beating in his head, and he smiled.

"I am your master," he whispered, leaning close, his lips brushing hers as she gasped, sucking in his breath.

Opening her eyes, shimmering, eyes dilated as a million new chemicals were produced by her brain cells, not knowing what to do with this new kind of arousal. "Yes," she whispered. "You are."

Lips parting as he loomed over her, fingers still firmly holding her hair, he touched the tip of his tongue gently to her lower lip, sighing. "You taste better than you smell."

A smile touched her face as he released her enough to let her nod. "You, too."

"Get on the bed." He turned, shoving her down on his bed, his fingers slipping from her hair, pulling the clips from it that had held it up.

As she collapsed against the firm mattress and silken sheets, her hair fell wildly about her face. She peered up at him through the golden locks as her breasts heaved, looking animalistic as he stepped towards her, kneeling over her and pushing her back.

He lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her eyes, pausing, tilting his head as though to examine her carefully, brow slightly knitting as he watched her. "You will be good for me," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

Smiling softly, Lucy managed a breathy: "Really?"

"Yes," he said, sliding a hand down between her thighs, his fingers tickling softly up, sliding inside the fabric of her underwear. "You will be very good."


	3. Endless

Leaning his head back, pinching the joint of this marvelous drug of the humans, the Master peered up at the ceiling, dancing with the shadows of trees outside the window, glowing with the pale white of a full moon. The smoke of the drug Lucy had insisted he try burned pleasantly in his lungs, and he imagined it throbbed there in time with the drums inside his skull.

Reaching over, Lucy took the joint for a drag before carefully pinching out the burning ember at the end and setting it on the bedside table. She turned her pot-glazed eyes up to the dancing shadows on the wall, slowly letting the smoke seep out her nose as Harold blew it out in a steady stream, watching it swirl into the air.

"My name's not Harold," he said in a slow-sudden way, crossing his eyes to look down the line of his nose.

"Really?" Lucy giggled. "Then what is it?" Pausing, she looked over at him as he sat there, eyes crossed, looking down at his nose. "_The Master_?"

"Yes," he said softly, still looking down at his nose. "I am The Master of all things." Lips slack, he let his eyes relax, turning to look at her, laying naked on top of the covers.

She laughed, her nose crinkling as she curled her legs up. "_Master of all things_," she said in a small voice, reaching out to walk her fingers up his nose into his hair. "Master of all things...Master..."

"Yes," he said, reaching up, snatching her wrist with quick fingers, leaning away from the head of the bed as he bent her arm out.

"Ouch..." She murmured, faint laughter still dancing on her lips.

_Ouch_. _Ouch?_

He released her, watched her as she pulled back, rubbing her wrist. It occurred to him that his high was already wearing off. Apparently Time Lord brains needed more than a joint to keep them stoned.

Turning and leaning back against the headboard, the Master lowered his hand to the crinkled sheets beside his thigh, tapping his fingers as the drums beat on the wrong side of his eardrum. "I want to show you something," he said. "Where I came from last."

She would be easy enough to break. She was like a flower...pretty and happy and innocent. Easy to stomp. Showing her the future of humanity would be a stomp enough for her.

He could see it now. He could see her dancing to the drums.

"OK," she said, still laughing slightly as she tugged on a lock of her hair.

Getting up, he walked to the window a moment, feeling the cool of the night seeping through the glass and staining the air about it, feeling it raise goosebumps along his arms. Turning, he grabbed up his pants, pulling them on. "Get up," he said as he zipped and buttoned the slacks, going next for his white undershirt. He buttoned it most of the way up, not bothering with the top three buttons or a tie. Where they were going, ties were entirely unnecessary. "Get dressed."

"OK." Climbing off the bed, Lucy found her clothes, climbing into them and fluffing her hair slightly, eyes shut, smile on her face as she swung her hair back and forth, humming the tune.

Turning towards her, her watched a moment, listening to her humming, reflecting the drums.

_The drums the drums the drums_.

Taking his eyes from her, he headed towards the door. "Follow me."

* * *

"What is this thing?" Lucy asked, looking around at the inside of this...strange thing he had brought her to. It hadn't looked like much more than a blue police box on the outside. Maybe she was just confused. Sometimes pot made her get confused.

Ignoring her question, the Master set the machine to take them to the future of humanity. The terrible future that would stomp Lucy's flower soul.

"This goddamn fucking outdated model," he snarled, beating the control panel with an open palm until the machine shuddered and whirred.

A gagged little shout of surprise escaped Lucy's throat as she fell back against one of the walls, looking up and around at the strange room. "Harold - what _is_ this place?"

"I _told _you," he snarled, whipping around to face her, leaning against the control panel, smiling, lifting his hands out to the sides. "I'm the Master." His smile vanished as he pushed away from the control panel, replaced with a vicious snarl. "_Not_ Harold Saxon."

The machine gave a jolt, sending the Master stumbling forward, his bare feet grinding against the grate as he knocked into Lucy, forcing her back against the wall.

The disturbance came to an abrupt halt, and the Master pulled back, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling, expecting another jolt. It never came.

Lowering his eyes back to Lucy, he took a deep breath, holding his hand out to her. "This is called a TARDIS," he said, "and we are now 100 trillion."

A small frown crossed Lucy's face as she lifted her hand, resting it in the Master's. "What?"

Fingers wrapping over hers, the Master spun, pulling her towards the door. Throwing it open, he pulled her forward, catching her by the shoulders and pulling her back against him, holding her firmly there, resting his jaw against her soft hair as he looked out into the dark new world the humans inhabited. Only there were no humans in this dead valley - not strictly speaking, anyway.

"This is the planet of Malcassario, where human kind will ultimately end up in the year 10o trillion - the end of the universe," he said, his voice a whisper in her ear.

Standing slack jawed in the door of the thing called the TARDIS, Lucy stared out into the dead valley. No life. No life except the humanoids rushing towards them across the blackened existence, glowing only under the faint light of the distant moon in the sky.

"What are they?" She whispered, her spine tingling with the instinct to hide from these things.

"Why," he said with a grin. "Those are people. They're just like you. They're _humans_."

"No..." She said softly. "They're not."

"Well...OK, you're half right," he said lightly, releasing her, moving to stand beside her, leaning against the frame of the TARDIS door. "They're called the Futurekind. They're cannibalistic humanoid beings hunting humans," he said. "They can be quite interesting when you get to know them."

They were getting closer, kicking up a puff of dust behind them as they ran forward.

"Close the door."

"But why?" He asked, looking out at the nearing horde. "Don't you want to see one half of what your race will become?"

"Please," she whispered softly, feeling a hot tear trace down her cheek.

They were close enough now for her to see that those were not weapons in their hands. They were gnawed human bones - legs and arms, broken in half for the marrow. These creatures, these Futurekind were stained. Their hands were covered in fresh blood, their faces as well. Blood and frothing saliva oozed from their lips and dripped from their chin as their tongues rolled in their mouths.

"Please close the door."

"All right," the Master sighed. "If you _insist_." Stepping forward he pulled the doors shut. They were only a few yards away, and their stench filled his nose. He knew that Lucy could smell them, too - their unwashed bodies, their teeth, never brushed, with bits of human flesh caught in them, rotting in their mouths.

Stepping back from the door, shaking softly, Lucy looked up at the Master with tear filled eyes as he turned back to her, lifting his eyebrows. "What are you?"

"Time Lord," he said. "You're kind will never have the pleasure of really knowing the Time Lords," he said, then paused, lifting his eyes towards the ceiling once again. "Actually...would that be a pleasure?" Giving a shrug, he moved toward the controls. "I am one of the last. There is only one other."

Lucy just watched him go, watched him work the controls. She didn't know what she was supposed to say.

"The infernal _Doctor_ destroyed our home planet," he said, turning to look back at Lucy as the TARDIS shuddered into action, to take them back. He would have gone anywhere else, had he the option. No...the Doctor had disabled the TARDIS moments before it had dematerialized before his eyes, with the Master behind the controls. "_I_ was stuck in a sick, old, dying body for years," he shouted, his voice ringing metallic off the walls. "Locked in a prison I didn't even fucking _recognize_!"

She started at his voice, closing her eyes, pressing out the tears, feeling them burn their way down her cheeks.

Sighing, the Master watched her a moment, shaking his head softly. "It's OK," he said, moving forward, lifting his hands to her cheeks. They felt cold under the heat of his palms. As she opened her eyes to look up at him, he forced a reassuring smile. "You don't have to cry."

"Why not?" She muttered, her voice crackling softly.

"Because," he said, "you are a pretty lucky lady. And a lucky pretty lady." He smiled, pulling her against him, hugging her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head as she folded against him like a frightened child. Stroking her hair, he closed his eyes, rocking her gently back and forth. "You have _me_ now. Standing by my side, you never have to face that future. Standing by my side, you will face a much, much greater future than any you could possibly imagine."

Now she could hear the bladed edge to his voice, even collapsed against his warm body, his arms curled around protectively, holding her snug. And yet, she somehow found them comforting.


	4. Insoluble

Lucy sat on the bed in the Master's room, frowning down at two pairs of shoes sitting on the floor before her. She didn't know which one best went with her burgundy skirt and jacket and white undershirt, and she much preferred to ponder her choice of shoes rather than the faces of the monsters she had seen the night before.

"You should marry me."

His abrupt voice startled her. Jumping, spinning to face him as he walked from the bathroom, tightening his tie, she let out a deep breath. "What?"

"You should marry me," he said again without enthusiasm, though he followed the words up with a little hop and skip and a twirl. "It would be the best move for everyone."

"Uh..." She wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to say. She had just met the man she had thought to be Harold Saxon the day before and learned the truth of him after a long bout of rather vicious sex. It all had been followed up by constant nightmares of the things he had shown her. It would see that he never slept as every time she jolted away from another dream he was there, waiting to soothe her back to sleep. He had frightened her and inevitably changed her life, even if she were to turn him down and never see him again, but he still seemed to be such a nice guy - or...whatever he was.

"I mean, think about," he said with a little shrug, straightening his tie a little before turning to the large mirror stretched across the wall facing his bed. He admired himself in his suit, straightened his tie again, running his fingers through his short hair and smoothing it out. "You, with your good looks, sweet demeanor and good breeding will strengthen my already rather successful campaign and swing those old retches that have already, by some miracle, succumbed to me."

_What?_

He turned his eyes to her in the mirror, loosening and re-tightening his tie. "And you will always remain under my protection, never to face the horrors of the terrible future I showed you last night, or any of the horrors leading up to it. You will have nothing to fear." He gave a soft little smile, turning to face her. "I will protect you from everything and anything. There is nothing to lose here."

Pursing her lips, swallowing thickly, she looked back down at her shoes. "Which ones shall I wear?"

Walking forward, he lifted a hand, cupping her cheek and lifting her face. Smiling down into her eyes, he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Wear the brown ones, dear," he said, kissing her. "Wear the brown, and say you'll marry me."

Lifting her eyes up to meet his, she felt her lips parting slightly, involuntarily, but no sound came out. She didn't know what she was supposed to say.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled. "Come on," he said gently, lightly. "You know you'll marry me. It would just be nice to actually hear it before I announce it tonight."

"No one is going to believe that we've been seeing each other for months," she said, shaking her head, averting her eyes from his as he trailed his fingers gently down her jaw line to her neck.

"They don't have to," he said, lifting his eyebrows with a little smile. "They would if I wanted them to, but what would be more romantic than a story of love at first sight?"

She lifted her eyes, as he lifted his thumb to gently stroke her cheek. "My dad with think I've gone mad."

"Like I said," he murmured gently, tipping his lips closer to her. "They will believe that we've been seeing each other if I want them too." He began to gently rap his finger tips against the nape of her neck in a soft, rhythmic movement. "I can make anyone believe anything."

Letting out a soft sight, she bowed her eyes again. "You can?"

"I can," he said. "Remember? I am the Master, after all."

* * *

Lucy was watching from across the room of finely dressed people, hovering about in their high heels and nicely polished shoes. She noticed that on occasion, as he talked, he would start tapping his toe in that same rhythm, the one that he seemed so constantly fascinated with, the one that he had gotten stuck in her head.

Girls she had once known at school tried to talk to her. They would succeed for a while, but grow impatient as her attention was always drawn short, her eyes wandering to the Master as he laughed with others, slowly wandering from place to place, putting them all under his spell.

"Why do you keep looking at that bloke?" One girl had asked, following the line of her vision. "Harold Saxon's his name, right?"

_No_, her mind said firmly. _He is the Master_.

"Yes," she said. "He's the man I'm going to marry."

"Harold Saxon?" The girl turned her eyes back to him, lifting a judging eyebrow. "I dunno - he's cute, I suppose, in a strange kind of way. But marry?"

She noticed that when he didn't smile, when he was bored or seriously contemplating something, there was a something of a pout to his lips, his dark eyes slightly narrowed, the lines at the corners of his mouth were more defined. She liked how his nose had the softest slope, she liked his lips and his eyes. Tilting her head to the side, she tapped a finger on her cheek thoughtfully, watching him practically waltz about the room, seducing everyone whose eyes he met with little more than a smile and friendly, spread hands.

Finally, dinner was served. Appetizers vanished and huge platters of fresh salads, fruits, and meats filled the long tables at one end of the room. People began to fill their plates and retreat to the tables to eat, but the Master stayed on his feet, observing.

Slinking towards him, Lucy kept along the walls, as though she were a fox frightened to be seen by hunters. At last, as she made her way to him, she slipped her hand into his from behind, and he squeezed her fingers.

"In just a moment I will announce our engagement," he said, tipping his head back towards her. "Would you like a spring or summer wedding?"

"I always envisioned spring," she murmured. "Under a blossoming cherry tree."

"Then that is what you shall have, darling," he said with a smile as he watched people mingling by the food tables. "Come with me."

He led her towards the small platform standing at the end of the room opposite the food. He wasn't supposed to speak for about another ten minutes, so as he took to the microphone, curious eyes began to turn towards him quickly. He motioned for the sound system to be turned on and, with a charming little smile, tapped the microphone. "Can everyone hear me?" He asked into the device, feeling Lucy close behind him.

A murmured "yes" rose from the crowd.

"Good, good," he said, turning to Lucy, pulling her forward with an arm about her shoulders, turning back to the crowd. "I have an announcement that I wanted to share with everyone here tonight." He turned, beaming at Lucy. "Tonight I am the happiest man alive on this planet, he said, the microphone picking up his voice though he was still gazing down at Lucy. "I am so happy because...well..." He turned back to the microphone, the lights above catching the glint of tears in his dark eyes. "Tonight, before coming here, I asked this beautiful, beautiful woman here to marry me."

Lucy could feel his arm tighten on her shoulder, hugging him against him, and she smiled up at him.

"And she said yes."

The crowd seemed to all of a sudden swell with excitement and glee as champagne swells with bubbles. They applauded even more as he leaned down to give Lucy a tender little kiss, smiling to her as he touched the tip of his nose to hers.

As the crowd's sound died down a bit, he turned back to the microphone, wiping away a single little tear from his cheek. "I know - I know a lot of you are probably thinking, 'How can he be getting married? He's known her a month!'" He laughed softly. "Perhaps those of you who question this simply don't know what it is like to be so incredibly in love." He turned his eyes back to Lucy. "Perhaps you do not believe in love so powerful, but I do."


	5. Dirty, Sticky Floors

I just wanted to officially put this out here: After this bit I'll be posting this story on my livejournal account to respect the restriction of as far as explicit adult content goes. I would also like to say that it really get a little weird...anyway - the rest of this chapters can be found here: http://thetarotfool. livejournal. com/6211.html

Love

* * *

4. Dirty Sticky Floors 

The Master, under the cloak of the name Harold Saxon, gave Lucy the wedding she had always dreamed of. He went so far as to find that cherry tree in blossom, to find the little doves she had always wanted perched among the blossoms. He bought for her the dress she'd wanted with its long train, it's classy strapless top and little tiara set amongst her blonde hair, done up in curls. He'd bought her the ring that she had picked out - a ring with a big diamond, an almost ungodly diamond.

Standing beneath the blooming cherry tree, the Master had smiled softly, almost truly happy to be there. But the drumming was incessant in the back of his brain, no matter where he was.

Holding Lucy's delicate fingers in his as the priest she'd picked out read through the ceremony, at last handing it off to them for their personal vows. The vows were decidedly short. Lucy hadn't been entirely sure what to say in hers, even after the months standing behind her of living with this strangest of strange men, even after having come to the conclusion that she really could be in love, not just infatuated or frightened.

"You came to me in perfect moment," the Master had said softly, almost too softly for the guests to hear the words. "You came, beautifully, to me and offered me a million possibilities - you offered to open doors for me which I couldn't have opened on my own..."

Ruffling feathers and fluttering blossoms over head released soft, pink petals to the grass almost as though on queue.

"You've opened my eyes," Lucy said. "You've shown me things I never could have imagined. You've shown me things that have terrified me and awed me, and all the while you held me close. I have never felt so warm as I do now, with you..."

Happy tears had warmed Lucy's pristine white cheeks as the Master had slipped the diamond ring onto her finger. He had insisted that he didn't need a ring - he already had a ring which they could use in the ceremony. It was strange - thick with a round emblem, what looked rather like planets or galactic maps set against a green opal.

At last, the priest said the final, clasping words: "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

With a smile perched on his lips, the Master wrapped his arms around Lucy, scooping her close to press his lips to hers, letting himself fall into the kiss just as much as Lucy. Companionship wasn't so bad - so long as the companion was an attractive woman.


End file.
